tired eyes in tired face

of tired wistful want

of needing arms and wanting lips

need still the silent haunt

broken shoulders bearing down

a weight of all else fail

stooping low to lift all up

upstream with tattered sail

hands that bear unseemly heft

scratched and bloodied though

still know just, how to make sweet love

blow after searing blow

cant help but think of moving tides

of waves that peak and rise

and gather in soft wanting self

to see with undone eyes.